Pizza Delivery Statistics from Northern California 2001-2006
by AMASanonymous
Summary: LBD Universe. It's not that I don't trust my parents, or I thnik they will snoop, but I think calling this my 'Diary' would just seem... wrong. And if there is anything that I have learnt, it's that my story is anything but 'wrong'. A post LBD look into the life of Lydia Bennet.
1. Prologue

**A/N This is my first shot at writing something first person and it's more of an experimental story rather than the story I wanted to do. So bare with me!**

Can diaries even have a prologue?

This story is complicated. It's probably one of those stories that you either love, or you don't really get until it's over and it's a waste of time. But there is one thing you should know about this story before you begin. Before you even start to begin. This story is true. This story is probably believable, I'm not sure yet, but ultimately this story is mine.

I have two sisters and if you're reading this you probably already know them. One of them is kind of famous for one reason or another, her boyfriend hates it but puts up with it, but she is recognised. My eldest sister is beautiful and talented but wouldn't want anybody to actually know about it in case they got their feelings hurt. So she sticks under the radar, with her ultimate soon to be fiance which if my mother talks about it one more time at the dinner table I will probably scream.

No, Lizzie might have been exaggerating with a few things, but my mother was one thing she was almost subtle about. And because I am the only one left, it's up to me to try and calm her down and I have enough of my own things to deal with than my mother obsessively trying to marry me off or encourage me to be _more like Lizzie. _Because out of all of us, my sister was the one that took the cake.

Her own business. Her stupidly rich mancake boyfriend that adores her. Oh yes, for all of Lizzie's complaints in life, she certainly won the lottery when it came to the future. And me, I don't even know any more about what I want to do or where I want to go.

I'm sure this is just bringing you into my story isn't it? Read about the forgotten younger sister as she complains about her own life, when if anybody has watched the videos would probably know, that my actions almost screwed everything up. I took her away from Pemberley just as she was about to get her boyfriend. And I was the one that dragged her home instead of to the threatre.

So before I get any further, can I just say one thing? I'm sorry about all of that. But I really didn't mean any of it.

To update you on life though, Lizzie is currently in San Fran with her boyfriend, Jane is still in New York and is buried under fabric samples and me, well I'm still at home. Mary and I are close friends and still cousins, but Mary is about to move on with her life as well. Kitty spends most of her time sleeping and I spend most of my time in classes.

Okay I should. But for all Darcy's good intentions, my story still kind of got out. Doesn't help when things are on youtube. But, and I take a deep breath here, my story isn't just about telling you what happened with everybody else, this is my story.

I am Lydia Bennet. I have red hair. I am studying nothing in particular. I have no career aspirations and no direction in life.

Six months ago my boyfriend posted a video of me and him having sex for sale up on the internet, if it wasn't for my sister's boyfriend I would currently get to list porn star in that list above. I haven't heard from him since. And it took me awhile to realise what everybody else has been trying to tell me for a long time.

He isn't coming back.

I don't know what Darceface did or didn't do. But my texts go unanswered and my emails get bounced back. I tried calling him once, just to hear his voice on the voice mail, but the number was disconnected.

I still text it occasionally, I don't even know why. But for some reason I can tell the cyberspace deadzone of unanswered text messages more than I can tell anybody else. Particularly now. Particularly when I'm alone.


	2. Chapter 1

\Discharged. That's what they call it. When you are considered healthy enough that you're continued involvement with the counsellors are no longer required. Or in what they actually mean is that they have asked you nearly every question under the sun and you have learnt to say the right things so they will stop charging your insurance company money. Except they probably won't, and I probably will get a bill sometime soon. But whatever, discharged is now next to my name in the file at the office.

Which means that I am technically for all intents and purposes a free woman. Except I feel like I'm trapped in a black endless hole of being lost and have no idea where I am. At least when I wasn't _discharged_, I at least had somewhere to be for an hour a week. Every Wednesday I would have a purpose. My job, the only thing I have to do is to get up and get dressed and go there. And every Wednesday for the past five and a half months, I've enjoyed that task.

Because. Well because, she listened to me. She was paid to listen to me I know that, but she actually listened to me. I could tell her that the sky was blue for the entire time, and discuss birds and how their wings were terrible at hiding them in trees, and she didn't care. Because I could talk about everything and anything that came to mind and it was helpful.

Out here. Where they don't have my history and a file, there is no talking about everything I want to. If I say I want to talk, they assume it's about George. And when I start talking about why green grass seems to grow better, they accuse me of either wasting time, playing a joke or avoiding the subject I actually want to talk about.

Actually. A strange word actually.

I actually did want to talk about why green grass grew better, but every time I asked somebody I was conned into talking about something else, given a task to do or told to google it.

The only thing I managed to google was about pizza delivery. And that was only because there was a van outside another person's house and I swore that they must have been the FBI or something because nobody needs pizza that often.

I named this after that. I don't know why, I think it's because if people google it they probably won't come up with this first. Lydia Bennet's diary might show up a few more hits but not this.

So this is kind of like starting anew I guess. Maybe none of the people that watched the videos will actually know about this stuff. Maybe whoever is reading this will be surprised by what I have to say rather than asking me questions about my sisters.

Or about what it was like to have sex in front of a camera.

To save any further questions, it was awkward.

Really, really awkward.

I don't even know what came over me to even try something like that, but at the time, I just didn't question it. It was like I was somebody else, or that the camera was a point that I was trying to prove. Looking back on it, I sometimes cover my head and cringe at how stupid I was. Sometimes I cry about it. The reality is that sometimes you buy these videos from online stores. You purchase the DVDs and assume that everything is legitimate.

Nobody every really stops to think about the consequences of it. When politicians are in scandal, what if the girl he was sleeping with hadn't told their family about it. Or didn't realise they were being photographed until their ass was on every news billboard in every capital city in America? Not on the same scale, but the vomit that still comes up my throat probably isn't even half as much as it is for those other girls.

And they didn't have William Darcy infatuated with their sister so he had no choice but to save the day.

I'm probably boring you at the moment and I'm sorry. I promise it's not always going to be me complaining about this, but so you know, this is kind of what my life has been for the past few months. I've either had to avoid people giving me sympathy, start talking about it to random strangers or turn down every single person who asks me out for a date because I am pretty certain they have seen the videos and knows what has happened.

And in between that, in between ALL of that, I have to somehow get over the fact that the guy that I first fell in love with. That first treated me like I was Lydia Bennet, an amazing human being rather than a sister of two fabulous older women, was using me.

God how could I be so stupid?

He had screwed over my sister already and I just didn't care. Because I was mad at her.

Right, moving on. Because that is what I do. I move on. I never had my heart broken. I am Lydia Bennet. Nobody's co-star and now a free woman. I no longer have my Wednesdays taken up with talking about things. I can do whatever I want.

Now I just need somebody to tell me what I want.


	3. Chapter 2

**3:20 am - Sunday**

For those who have stuck this far in the story, I promise there is a plot to it that isn't just me complaining about my life. But I seem to get stuck on that point a lot. You have to realise though that writing this all at once is hard. Really hard. Probably one of the hardest things that I've done. And I still don't know where to even begin that the very very beginning seemed like a Disney movie way to start.

I'm not like my sister in that I have a perfect photographic memory. My memory has holes and opinions and I can't remember everything. I won't be able to tell you what I was wearing every day of it, and I certainly can't remember all of what was said, but I will promise you this. Lying is lazy. I'll try not to stretch the truth even to dramatise, because I want this to be truthful. I want this to be my chance to redeem myself in what was a stupid year.

So that does mean that you will have to read sometimes about George was the love of my life, was the optimal word in that sentence, and sometimes you will have to hear about how I am pretty sure that the flower delivery van that lives down the block was previously a pizza van and I don't know why I find this fascinating.

And I do it because sometimes this story is hard to tell. Which I think I've mentioned before. So we're clear? We're good? This story.. is hard to tell. And so it will be broken up and all over the place and just plain stupid sometimes. But I will get there. I promise, I will get there.

Three months ago I went to stay with Lizzie. She had just moved. Just started talking to investors and pretty much trying very hard to pretend that she was completely fine with everything. But I could tell that she was overwhelmed. The high pitched "i'm fine" tended to give it away, particularly when said four times quickly in the same sentence.

Darcy flew me up there that weekend. When you're avoiding classes, it seems like it's the best decision in the world. Because who honestly needs classes? Except when you're trying to make something of yourself.

Anyway, Darcy flew me up there, met me at the airport, hugged me. Which I don't know if you've worked it out from the videos that Lizzie made, but Darcy really is kind of awkward. So being hugged by somebody you've both seen insult you and then make out with your sister, isn't exactly something I expected when I arrived.

The tight hug I got from Lizzie however was very much expected. The tight hug, the desperation that I hadn't thought was possible from my older sister. But the stress seemed to have gotten to her. And for once, it was nice to be needed like that. To be the needed sister rather than the one that needs them. That needed them through the past few months. But being held there in my sister's arms, I have to admit, it was kind of nice.

When she finally let me go, I saw the glisten in her eyes and the glance at Darcy that let him know that Lizzie was thanking him for it. I had no idea what had gone on between them in the past few months, but it was nice that they could at least share a look without hating each other.

Not that I ever truly thought that Lizzie hated Darcy. It always seemed a little too forced. But try and tell her that... I'm getting distracted.

It's taken awhile, but I need to get this story out, for reasons you'll work out later. But for now, the importance of this visit to my sister is that this is the first time I met Gigi. And Fitz. And saw everything that my sister had talked about, but mostly for my story. This is when I met her.

I wanted to hate her. I wanted to dislike the girl who had loved George first. Who had touched him and been touched by him first. Who had kissed him, heard his words of love and experienced him first. Who had her heart broken first. She was the special first person. Me? I was the idiot that didn't pay attention when people were talking about what a terrible guy he was.

Her. She was the girl who was the sweet innocent Georgiana Darcy who had been taken for a ride and at the time. I hated her. I wanted to hate her. In my story before this, even my own sister had called me a slutty whore. When the video came out, people just naturally assumed I knew, like I had planned this. When it happened to Gigi, they all knew it was George's doing.

I don't know why, but my first encounter with Gigi Darcy, my self appointed nemesis was the worst thing I could think of at the time. I didn't want to have anything to do with her, not when my life was still in turmoil. I didn't want to hear the story of how _she_ had made it through or _she_ had gotten over it. I just wanted to deal with things my own way.

But that night, after the needed hug, and the introduction to what living with a Darcy was like, I had to meet her. I had to meet Georgiana Darcy.

**4:30 am – Sunday**

For the fourth time that day I had been hugged. The dark haired, ridiculoously and annoyingly beautiful Gigi Darcy actually hugged me. It wasn't the socially awkward, 'probably going to be your brother sometime in the future' hug, and it wasn't the needed hug from Lizzie. It was, I don't even know what it was back then. But it was like she wanted to be friends, and thought the best way to do that was to hug me like she had known me my entire life.

If only life could be that simple. For any of those still reading this rather long introduction to a pretty boring story, let me tell you, life is never simple. Hugging somebody doesn't automatically make you friends. But nevertheless. I was hugged.

"I'm Gigi, you must be Lydia. Well of course you're Lydia, I've seen your videos. You were really good in them. And really honest." She had told me from the beginning. I don't know whether she was just letting me know it was okay to bring up George as I already knew or what, but I shuffled my feet and simply nodded.

Then she hugged me. We were nearly the same height, nearly the same build, but she hugged so differently than what I was used to. Without any embarrassment or agenda. Without having to know me, she just threw herself into it. Literally. From that moment on, despite the awkward moments that would come, my hatred of Gigi Darcy wasn't exactly going to happen. You can't hate somebody who hugs you with such affection.

I patted her on the back, not sure if I should wrap my arms around her in return, but I needed to reciprocate some how.

"I-" I realised I was talking out aloud, "Thanks I guess."

I knew that my voice was quieter than it would have been a year ago, hell a few months ago, but Gigi for some reason made me nervous. I wanted to hate her for being first, but did she ever think the same things about me? Did she think about the fact that I had slept with a guy she had once loved?

"Don't be silly, thank you, we need a third person for our team, and you're totally the person to do it."

"Team?"

"How to get my stupid brother to propose to your sister so he can stop carrying around my mother's ring team." Gigi had told me with enthusiasm at the time.

I don't even know why I remembered that. Three months have passed since then, and I remember that conversation really well. Maybe because it was the first conversation I would ever have with Gigi, or maybe it was the shock that Darcy was so serious so quickly with Lizzie and Lizzie didn't seem to mind.

That evening was the first time I met Gigi and the moment when this story changes.


End file.
